


the hand that paused to gather

by e_p_hart



Category: ANDERSEN Hans Christian - Works, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Sleeping Beauty (Fairy Tale), The Tinderbox
Genre: F/M, but entertaining nonetheless, really bad old english speaking, terrible choice of synonyms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_p_hart/pseuds/e_p_hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Prince receives a rather different prize for his toils.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hand that paused to gather

The Prince, with one final Atlantian shove, managed to open the door just wide enough to squeeze through into the tower room beyond. The scent of dead roses filled the air, although the room was absent of the flower. The Princess lay on the bed, unmoving.

As though in a dream, the Prince floated forward to look at the Princess. Such beauty! such splendor! such modesty! for, although otherwise unresponsive, her cheeks were coloured a becoming pink, as if she knew, even in her deep slumber, who gazed upon her. The Prince let out a breath in admiration. This girl, this vision, was worth his many long years of questing. He noted the stillness of the scene, fixing it within his memory before bending downward to lay a passionate, if chaste, kiss upon those ruby lips.

Moments passed.

The Prince, who had been waiting, still bent over, eyes closed in anticipation, opened his eyes now, brow wrinkling with consternation. She was supposed to wake from her sleep by true love’s kiss! Hadn’t the fairies chosen him above the rest? Hadn’t he received the gift of an enchanted sword and shield from the elves? Hadn’t he defeated the witch, the dragon, crossed the fiery chasm on merely a thin rope, cut through the jungle of great thorned roses? What could he have done wrong? Why did she not wake?

The silence stretched onward.

Suddenly, the Prince stumbled back, violently wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Dear Gods above,” he said in horror; “she is dead!”

And, indeed, it appeared as though the Princess was. Her bosom did not rise nor fall; no sweet breath rattled between those lips; and surely no dreams troubled that brow.

“I have come for nothing,” the Prince groaned in despair; for if he returned to his father’s kingdom without a bride, without this fabled Princess, he would be disgraced, dishonoured, disowned. He looked around the room for some second chance, some sign that this fate might not be his. He saw nothing.

A shout came from the window. The Prince slid along the wall, as far from the bed where the dead Princess lay, over to the window, which opened to a balcony. Upon this he stepped. Far below, upon a pile of dead roses and vines, stood the three fairies who had advised him before his questing, all in pale silver and white. They were smiling.

“Brave Prince!” they shouted in tandem; “thee we hail!”

“She lies dead,” the Prince said.

“What sayest thou?”

“The Princess is dead. She did not wake at my kiss. She breathes no more. I am ruined, fairies!” The Prince, in dismay, turned and retreated into the shadows of the tower room, down the stairs, and into the inner courtyard, strewn with loose cobblestones and withered flowers and a choked fountain. It was at this fountain the Prince halted, and collapsed to sit upon the edge of the basin, head in his hands, enchanted shield lying forgotten at his feet.

Soft steps made him look up. “Samson,” the Prince said, as the horse lipped his shoulder tiredly. “We should go, my friend.” The Prince heaved himself to his feet, and buckled the shield onto Samson’s saddle. He took the reins and led the horse out through the rusted and broken gates. The fairies were waiting in a row for him, hands outstretched, each offering a different token: a cup full of clear liquid, a bowl of sparkling fruits, and a small closed chest. The Prince made as though to walk by, but the tallest spoke.

“Wait,” she said. “Your trials, dear Prince, have not been in vain; and to that end we offer you these tokens.”

“Why did you have me come here?” the Prince said, staring off into the distance. “For what purpose?”

“We knew she was dead,” they said all together. “We thank you for your help, and bid you take what you have earned.” They brandished their burdens anew, to remind him.

“This drink,” the first said, “will grant you long life, and good health for the rest of those days.”

“These fruits,” said the second, “will free you from your current weariness, and slake your hunger for many days yet to come.”

“And this chest,” spake the last, “bestows your heart’s desires with but one thought.”

“Dost thou accept these?” they asked together.

“As my due,” the Prince snarled. He snatched the cup and drained it with a single gulp, ate several fruits, sharing some with Samson, and stowed the chest in his saddle-bags. “How does the chest work, fairies?”

“Simply hold your hand before the lid and speak or think your desire, and an aid will appear inside,” the fairy who had held the chest said. “But take care that you should return whatever aid you receive to the chest after employment.”

“I thank you, fairies, and leave you to your ain.” He rode off into the sunset.

* * *

 

It was clear to the Prince that he could not return to his father’s kingdom; and so he turned away from the familiar lands of his youth with a heavy heart. After many long days of riding, he arrived at the next kingdom, dirty but not tired. But the Prince was worried someone in that kingdom might recognize him, and so before riding into the capital, he stopped behind a hill full of ripened wheat.

Before now, the Prince had not bothered to try to use the magical chest the fairies had given him, for he had been to angry to even consider it. Now, however, he took out the chest from his saddle-bags and held his hand over the top, as he had been bidden. “Chest,” the Prince said, “I wish for you to disguise me so that the people of this kingdom will not recognize me.” Nothing happened.

He was not discouraged, and opened the chest. Inside lay a small, golden-backed mirror, which the Prince pulled out and looked into. His image inside the mirror winked, although the Prince himself did not, and all at once a great beard grew out from his chin, followed by a very fine moustache and a cap of dirty red cloth. The Prince looked down at himself to discover that his attire had completely changed as well from the rich velvets and silks to rough clothes that a farmer might wear. Amazed, the Prince looked again into the mirror to study these changes when-- whoosh! He was once again wearing his old clothes, and his face was shaved smooth as befit a prince.

“Oh, enchanted mirror,” the Prince cried aloud, to Samson’s amusement; “what wonder are you!” And he held the mirror up to his face again, and this time he was changed into the appearance of a soldier come home from the wars. This the Prince thought was very grand and did not look into the mirror any more, but held it up to Samson’s face so that his horse too might be changed. After, he was certain to return the mirror to the chest with a word of thanks.

It was a tired and dirty pair of a horse and soldier that stumbled into the capital, and attracted no more attention than any normal subject of that kingdom. The Prince was able to acquire a good place of lodging for the night, and was soon bathed and venturing out into the marketplace, after, of course, assuring himself that Samson was also well-attended to.

He moved easily through the crowds, as not many wished to anger such a fine-looking soldier, studying the crafts of the metal- and iron-works and finding them equal in caliber to those of his own kingdom. The Prince found himself in the shadow of a large tower, and stopped to drink at a fountain.

“Lady,” he asked of the woman filling a bucket beside him, “what is this tower?”

The woman eyed him, as though mooting ignoring the question, but said, “That is the tower where the princess of the kingdom is kept.”

“Part of the palace?”

“Of the palace,” the woman agreed, hefting her bucket.

“And why is the princess kept in this tower?”

“Thou must have been away fighting for many a year, soldier,” said the woman with scorn.

“I have indeed.”

“Aye, and it is those who ask no questions and tell no lies that live the longest!”

“I have no quarrel with you,” the Prince said. “Forgive me, but I have just returned from the wars. If my questions offend, or if this tower and its inhabitant is taboo, I would rather learn now with such a kind woman as you than risk shocking someone less forgiving.” And he bowed courteously.

The woman sniffed, but answered him. “The king, it is told, received a prophesy when his daughter was born. This prophesy says that the princess is destined to marry an ordinary soldier. Horrified that his noble-born daughter would marry a common man, the king had this tower built, where the Princess has lived nigh unto this day. But do not worry, soldier; you cannot be the one the prophesy tells of.”

“And why not?”

“Because he has already been found, and awaits execution in the dungeons. A seer found him only last week. Pray, soldier, move aside.”

Wonderingly, the Prince stepped out of the woman’s way and she moved off with her bucket full of water.

Back at the inn, the Prince ordered a supper. “Innkeep,” he said, “I was told today that a common soldier is to be executed because of a prophesy.”

“That is true,” the innkeeper sighed.

“When is he to be executed?”

“In three days hence” came the answer.

“And is he kept in the dungeons of the palace?”

“He is.”

“I thank you, Innkeep,” the Prince said, giving the man a coin and sending him on his way. He then ate his supper and adjourned to his room, where he waited, covers pulled up to his chin, for midnight. On the stroke of twelve, the Prince sprang from his bed and took out the enchanted chest. But then he hesitated. What should he ask for? He did not know.

“Chest,” he said finally, “I wish to sneak unnoticed into the dungeons so that I may speak for a time with the soldier who is to be executed.”

He opened the chest, and inside lay a black cloak. Frowning, the Prince pulled it out and settled it over his shoulders. He nearly cried out when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror of the bureau, his head floating seemingly bodiless above the ground. He found that if he pulled the hood over his head and face, he was entirely invisible. With this cloak, it was the work of minutes to find an entrance to the dungeons, and then it was simply luck that the Prince overheard two guards talking about the imprisoned soldier and where he was being kept; and so within the hour the Prince stood outside the soldier’s cell.

“Soldier,” he hissed.

Inside the darkness of the cell, the soldier stirred. “Who speaks to me from the empty air?” the soldier asked fearfully. “Is it Death, come to take me away? Or perhaps it is Our Heavenly Father, to take me to Heaven. Show yourself!”

“Quiet,” the Prince said, shoving aside the hood of the cloak. “I might be able to help you, soldier. How come you to be here? What devilry entangled you in this prophesy?”

“Alas,” said the soldier, “it is my fate to love my betrayer: the witch of my village turned me in, jealous that I had wandered during my travails in foreign lands, no matter how I tried to dissuade her. The prophesy of the Princess is well-known throughout these lands, and my love heartlessly preyed upon those fears the king has; and so I am waiting here, for to die in three days hence.” And he hung his head very low.

“And what of the Princess?”

“What of her?”

“Hast thou never seen the Princess?”

“I have not; I do not even know if she hast been told of my impending doom, or that soon she shall be free from the prophesy.”

The Prince hesitated. “What if I told you that I could ask the Princess such? What difference should this make to you?”

“I do not know; perhaps merely the knowledge that I am not the only victim in this horrible game. But why? Do you have such powers as to walk through barred doors? You must; for how else should you be here before me in these dark dungeons?”

“I shall return, soldier,” said the Prince. “Tell no one we have spoken, and take heart; for if thou tellest the truth, mayhap you will yet walk free. Although I should find a better class of lady love than jealous witches.”

With that, he threw his cloak completely over his head, and hurried away up the passage, as a guard shambled past, unaware of the nighttime visitor. Finding the base of the princesses tower was similarly easy, although once there the Prince saw that getting inside was going to be a job: a great iron door with thirteen great iron locks barred his path. Humbled, but not discouraged, the Prince retreated to his room at the inn and the chest. The cloak still about his shoulders, the Prince raised his armless hand before the chest and spake, “Chest, I wish to go unnoticed into the tower of the Princess.”

Inside the chest rested an ordinary length of rope and a small golden key. Eyebrows raised, the Prince took these items from within and stole once more to the base of the tower, this time in the deserted marketplace, and rendered yet invisible by the chest’s magical cloak. Out came the rope, and, a little deprecatingly, the Prince threw the rope upwards with all his strength. He needn’t have doubted, however, for the charmed rope stretched and stretched and tied itself neatly to a handy gargoyle on the roof of the tower. The Prince grinned at his good fortune and made to climb up the side of the tower. All at once, though, the Prince found himself dangling before the sole window on the tower.

“Whew!” the Prince said to himself. “Such a trip!” He tried to open the window, but it was locked, and from the outside. The little golden key fit the lock perfectly, and soon the Prince was slipping quietly inside the tower.

Moonlight filled the room from the windows of the ceiling, and the Prince marveled. His attention was presently caught by the Princess, who was asleep on a bed of furs along one wall. Where the previous princess the Prince had strove to rescue had been darkness and shadows, this princess was light and goodness, and her golden hair stretched out like starlight. She breathed softly, eyelids fluttering in some dream. The Prince found himself stealing closer to her, and before he could stop, pressed a kiss to her mouth.

Instantly, the Princess awoke, and drew breath to shout. The Prince clapped a hand over her lips, and said, “Princess, please, I mean you no harm whatsoever; I only wish to speak with thee.” He drew back carefully, ready to spring again should the Princess cry out.

“Who art thou, who comes so boldly into the chambers of a lady?” the Princess asked. “Speak, thou knave, before I call for guards to cut thee into a thousand pieces and have thee thrown into the moat for the crocodiles!”

“Thou art a blood-thirsty maiden indeed,” the Prince said with a laugh. “I cannot tell you my real name; call me, then, Cormun.” And he laughed out loud once more.

“Cormun,” the Princess said. “Hast thou come from a neighboring kingdom, to steal me away for some ogreish king who languishes from hearing tales of my beauty? Or else thou hast come for thyself, and are even now preparing to ravish me?”

“No, Princess, I have not come for either of those deeds.”

“Alas,” the Princess said, “then I cannot think of why thee would be here.”

“As I said, I wish to merely speak with you.”

“At such an hour of the morning?”

“Indeed, I do apologize for my irregular timing of calls; but I did not wish to attract attention to my person.” The Prince cast an eye carefully around the chamber, and was satisfied that there was only one door leading out from it. When he opened it, again through use of the golden key, he found only a set of stairs, all empty.

“We art alone, Cormun,” the Princess said, clutching her covers to her chin. “What dost thou care to speak of?”

“Why are you kept here in this tower, Princess?”

“My father, the king, was told of a prophesy regarding my future husband when I was born; it is said that I shall marry a common soldier.” The Princess clapped her hands in shock and wonder. “Why, thou soldier must be the one so prophesied!”

“No, Princess, I do not think--”

“But thou must! Why else would thou have come here? And so early in the morning! Thou must surely be planning to take me away, out from my father’s very nose! Oh, what fantasy and sure foretelling!”

“Princess,” the Prince said desperately, “I have only come to tell you that in two days hence an innocent man will be executed because of that same prophesy. Nothing more!”

“Thou-- thou varlet! Thou lying, snake-tongued--”

“Shh!” hissed the Prince, covering the Princesses mouth once more. “Hark! footsteps upon the stair!”

“Quick, into my closet,” the Princess said, ripping his hand away and pointing towards the cupboard while she laid back down again and shut her eyes. The Prince entered into the closet, and only right in time: just as he shut the door, leaving a crack through which to see, the King and Queen entered, carrying candles.

“My daughter,” said the Queen, “do wake, and quickly.”

“It is my mother, the queen,” the Princess said sleepily. “And my father, the king. What brings thou to this, my chambers, o mine parents?”

“Thy mother and I wished merely to check upon our precious daughter,” said the King. “I had a dream that thou hadst disappeared, and I at once hastened to assure myself that this was false, and only a dream.” He kissed her on the cheek, followed by the Queen, and then they left.

“Dost thy father have such dreams often?” the Prince said, coming out from the closet when he was certain the King and Queen had gone.

“I shall not speak to thee,” the Princess said with a sniff.

“If you will not speak to me, than I shall go.” The Prince bowed and was halfway out the window when the Princess called out to him. “Yes, Princess?”

“Take me with thee!”

“What nonsense is this?” said the Prince, although he did very much want to take her along. “I cannot remove you from your parents; your father would surely die.”

“I do not care! I cannot remain locked up in this tower, Cormun!” And she pouted so that the Prince did relent.

“Princess. I...” He sighed. “I did not mean to get entangled in such a plot,” he said to the air around him. “All right, I shall take you with me when I leave.”

The Princess squealed with delight and clapped her hands. “Oh, I thank thee, sir soldier!” She rose from her bed and pulled a small knapsack from behind a pile of books. “If thou willst wait just a moment, I shall be ready to leave with thee.”

“What! Tonight? And you had a bag packed at the ready?”

“Of course,” the Princess called from her closet, where she was dressing. “In fact, if thou had not come, I would be leaving, alone, in a few days time, when my parents will be leaving for their summer castle.”

“I did not expect you to be ready so soon,” the Prince said, standing with his arm linked at his back, one foot on the windowsill, peering out-- to give the Princess more privacy.

“Dost thou think I enjoy my bondage here in this tower?” The Princess appeared at the Prince’s elbow, dressed in a sensible dark dress. “Shall we go?”

“Come,” said he, handing her the rope.

“I cannot possibly climb down thusly!”

“You can; trust me.”

Dubiously, the Princess took the rope, and with a small cry, shoved off into the air. There was a twinkle, and she stood safely on the ground, blinking up into the darkness.

The Prince was sure to lock the window with the golden key before joining the Princess in the empty marketplace. He gave her the magic cloak of invisibility, as it was less suspicious for a soldier to be out in the small hours of the morning than a richly dressed woman. And he was obliged to also give up his bed in the inn, and stretched himself out on the floor until she was asleep again. Only then did the Prince take out the chest and replace the cloak and the rope and the key inside, and shut them inside; and then he closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep himself.

* * *

 

The Princess demanded that the Prince tell her the entire story, and was prepared to go charging off at once to save the poor, innocent soldier from his fate.

“And to think,” said she, pacing furiously back and forth, “that my father sought to hide this from me! Oh, such woe, to have a father as wretched as mine! Cormun, my friend: thou must help this man!”

“I was indeed planning on what you speak,” the Prince admitted, “but I should first get you to safety.”

“Safety? Sir, I intend to aid thee!”

“Princess, if you and I are found together, I shall be executed in place of the poor fellow of which we speak; or have you forgotten that I too hold the form and shape of a soldier?”

“But,” the Princess said, biting her lips, “thou actest not like a soldier! Thou hast such a-- regal air about thee. If we were captured-- which, provided enough planning, we should be able to avoid-- I could say that thou were only *disguised* as a soldier.”

“Ah,” the Prince said; the Princess was hitting a little too close to home; “I think not, Princess. I do thank you for your offer of assistance, however, and promise that I shall join you once I have liberated our soldier from the dungeons of your father’s castle.”

This was not acceptable to her, and she raged and argued for several hours; but the Prince would not budge. At last, the Princess agreed, and the Prince had her shut her eyes and cover her ears whilst he performed his actions upon the chest, in which appeared that same disguising mirror. He was careful not to look inside it.

“Princess,” he said, “if you but glance into this mirror, you should find yourself transformed.”

“Magic,” she breathed, and was instantly disguised as a ragged farmer-boy. She delighted in the freedom of her short hair and breeches, and was keen to try the mirror again, but the Prince tucked the mirror into his coat.

“Cover your ears and close your eyes once more, if you please,” he asked, and the Princess did so. “Chest,” he whispered, “I need to find a place outside this city where this Princess shall be safe for a night.” The chest yielded a plain golden ring that adjusted to the Princes’s finger, and seemed to tug him in an easterly direction.

“May I uncover my ears yet?” the Princess said.

“Yes, you may. At dark we shall go,” said he, and they did, without attracting notice, the Princess riding Samson astride behind him.

“Where do we ride, Cormun?” the Princess asked as they rode out into the countryside, led by the constant attraction of the magic ring.

“I do not know,” he admitted, “but I shall find somewhere safe for you.”

Soon the Princess was leaning heavily against the Prince, half-asleep. He halted Samson a good ways beyond the city, outside a small cottage where the ring suddenly went still, and he rapped smartly on the door.

“Who is it?” came the answer.

“I seek lodging for my son,” the Prince said.

A woman, about twenty and five years of age, and comely besides, opened the door. “Sir,” she said with a curtsey, “I am afraid I can offer no lodging, but if--” She caught sight of the Princess, disguised as a boy and drooping in the saddle, and started at once for her. “Just for your son?” the woman said, helping the Princess down.

“Yes; I have been called away rather suddenly for a nights work, and needed a place of lodging for my son.”

“Only a night?”

“That is what my commander said. I should return late tomorrow morning. I thank you, lady.”

“My pleasure, sir soldier,” said the woman.

The Prince returned at once to the inn, where he packed all his belongings. He asked the chest for a key to the cell in the dungeons where the soldier was kept, and a way to fool the guards as well. The resulting key was tucked into a pocket, and he bundled the extra uniform under one arm. Then the Prince looked into the mirror, and was returned to his normal, Princely state; he looked again and was dressed in the garments of a guard. Satisfied, he set off for the dungeons.

All the guards were asleep, and so the Prince was able to walk right up to the cell he desired. “Soldier,” he hissed.

“Who is it?”

“It is I, the soldier who promised to help you.” He unlocked the cell with a flourish. “I am disguised as a guard. Quickly now, and help me stuff these clothes full of straw.”

“Upon my word,” the soldier whispered, “when we escape, thou may have anything it is within my power to give.”

“We must escape first,” said the Prince. “Here, look into this mirror, but once.” The soldier did, and marveled as he was changed to look exactly like a guard.

“Thou art resourceful indeed,” he commented.

Back at the inn, the Prince had the soldier hide in the stables while he returned the key to the chest, and asked for a horse for the soldier to ride; and there appeared a lead rope for a horse that had, the soldier said, rode up from the empty street and halted before him.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” the Prince asked.

“Aye; I wish to go and confront my lady-love, and if she does not believe my truthfulness, then I will ride to the next kingdom.”

“Your lady is the witch?”

“Aye, that she is.”

“Perhaps I should go with you.”

“I would welcome your company,” said the soldier; and so it was two horses that rode out from the city. The Prince thought he recognized the route, and was thusly unsurprised when they stopped before the same cottage the Princess was housed at.

“Your lady resides here?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“Aye.” The soldier marched right up to the door and opened it, without bothering to knock. He jumped back with a gasp. “My love! This is not a good thing that thou are doing!”

Inside the cottage, the woman had the Princess tied to a table, and was brandishing a very large knife threateningly about her neck.

“Cormun!” the Princess yelled. “Help me!”

The Prince rushed inside and tore the knife away from the witch, and then cut the Princess’s bonds, helping her up.

“Who are you?” the witch demanded of them both. “How dare you come into a ladies house uninvited!”

“Rosina,” the soldier said, “it is I, Milo! I am merely disguised.”

“Milo?” she said suspiciously.

The Prince coughed. “Here,” he said, and handed the mirror of disguise to the soldier, who was transformed to his ordinary self. The witch fell happily into his arms. “But you betrayed him to the guards!” the Prince said.

“I did,” said the witch, “but I regretted every day since. Oh, my love!”

“Can I change back now?” the Princess asked. “It is not as entertaining to be a boy as first I thought.”

“Let me see your true form,” the witch commanded, and soon they were all seated around her table, sipping hot soup. “I am sorry I almost killed you,” the witch said to the Princess; “the spell was to release my Milo from prison, so, you see, I did have good intentions.”

“Foul witch,” the Princess hissed.

“Princess,” the Prince said, surprised. “What cause for your rudeness?”

“Oh, thou wouldst too be rude if *thou* had been the one tied to a table, about to be sacrificed because someone jumped to conclusions,” she said.

“It was the first time I had attempted such a spell,” the witch said humbly. “I normally traffic in potions and fetches, not dark curses and spells.”

“All is well in the end,” the Prince said. “Milo and I arrived back here in time.”

“Ha,” the Princess said darkly, and would say no more.

“I must ride back into the city,” said the Prince eventually, “and check out from my place of lodging, so as not to arouse suspicion.”

“Your Princess is safe here with us,” the witch promised, and so the Prince rode back yet again into the city, where he slept heavily for a few hours before leaving with all his belongings.

* * *

 

“I need to take back the horse you borrowed,” the Prince told Milo, the soldier, later that day.

“As thou wilt,” Milo said amiably. So the Prince relieved the mysterious horse of her lead, and returned it to the chest. The horse itself trotted down the road and out of sight. The Prince also returned to the chest the mirror and the ring; and then he remembered the set of clothes locked up in the cell with some trepidation.

The Princess was gathering water from the well behind the cottage, and the soldier was fixing a fence, and so the witch was alone inside the cottage, kneading dough for bread. The Prince sidled inside.

“Yes, Cormun?” Rosina asked.

“I had a question,” said the Prince. “I have a magical object out of which enchanted items come. I was told to return each item to the chest after I used it. If I did not, or could not, return such a thing...”

“What is this item of which you speak?” said Rosina with a frown.

“A set of clothes, into which I stuffed straw, to take the place of Milo.”

Rosina laughed. “I should not think they would cause much mischief, if they be but ordinary clothes.”

“I thank you.”

“You will be getting on soon?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“Milo and I shall as well. And the Princess? What of her?”

“I hadn’t given it any thought,” the Prince lied.

The witch chuckled knowingly. “She has told me her plans to go with you. She’ll not stay behind without a fight, I fear.”

“I do not know where I shall go! How can I endanger her?”

“She’s a plucky one. She’ll be alright, I am certain. And with your...’magical object,’ I think you will get along fine.” She glanced at him sidelong. “You are both welcome to stay for the night.”

“I thank you.”

* * *

 

The next morning, the Prince and Princess, both riding on Samson, as the Princess added but little burden, set off, bid farewell by the witch and the soldier.

“Where do we ride?” asked the Princess, whose name, the Prince discovered the night before, was Cressida.

“I do not know.”

“Alas, Cormun, I do not think we should ride to the neighboring kingdom.”

The Prince slowed his horse. “And why not?”

“Because I am certain to be recognized! And,” she added, “my father was in the midst of negotiating a marriage treaty with the youngest prince in that kingdom. I do not wish to marry him!”

The Prince recognized the same prince Cressida spoke of as his younger brother; but he did not say that. Aloud, he said, “Very well; and I have reasons of my own to avoid that kingdom, even disguised as we are.” (For, you see, they were both wearing the costume of hunters)

“Oh, Cormun, it is quite alright! I know who thou art. Thou needn’t lie to me.”

“Of what do you speak?”

“Rosina told me. She could tell thou wert magicked.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“...no,” she said at length. “But I do have my guesses.”

“Tell me.”

“Thou art...a sorcerer, an apprentice who stole his master’s magic.”

“Nothing so commonplace, I am afraid.”

“Thou art...a Prince, run away from home.”

“Not as such,” the Prince sweated.

“Oh, I do not know. In any case, we are agreed? We shall not go into the neighboring kingdom?”

“This does present a problem.”

“Speak it, and have done.”

“We must ride south, and in doing so will come into lands dangerous and mercurial. I have heard, however,” he continued, “that not long ago a Prince went in and defeated a dragon outside of an old castle there; perhaps we should make our home, for at least a time, there. It was, at last I heard, empty, and likely to remain so for a long while.”

“Very well,” Cressida answered. “I shall not look too deeply into how thou knowest so much.”

“I can read, and write,” the Prince said, “and so my commanding officer in the wars confided information and news in me, perhaps more than was advised.”

“It was naught for thy benefit, nor for his,” said the Princess, sneering, and they rode in silence.

* * *

 

Not long after, they were met with a strange sight: a centaur and his family were galloping along towards them.

“Ho!” cried the Prince. “Centaurs! why do you ride so far and so fast? What is your cause?”

“Our cause, hunter, is escape from the fairies who have taken over the castle beyond that hill,” the centaur replied. “I should, if I were you, turn around and head the other direction.” And with that the group of centaurs dashed away.

“Evil fairies?” said Cressida. “Continue onwards, dear Cormun; this sounds like an interesting adventure.”

“Interesting indeed,” the Prince agreed and rode ahead. If these were the same fairies who had aided him in his, albeit failed, quest, then he should like a word or two with them.

The lands before the castle, where they were once covered with strong green vines and flowers, were now dead and rotting. Samson shied away from the heavy mouldering piles of mast, and the Prince soothed him as best he could.

“What madness is this?” the Princess said, gaping.

“I do not know,” the Prince said grimly, and rode on.

Soon they reached the gates of the castle, now hale and strong.

“Fairies!” the Prince shouted. “I would beg a parlay.”

“Prince,” came the reply, “thou art not welcome here.”

“Prince?” gasped Cressida.

The Prince ignored her. “It is the least that you owe me!” he yelled. “There are many things as yet that I do not understand. I seek the truth.”

A sigh. “Very well.” The gates creaked ponderously open.

The fairies were waiting for them in the great courtyard.

“Have you taken up residence here?” the Prince asked without preamble, once he had dismounted.

“We have,” they answered as one.

“And was that your intention all the while?”

“It was.”

“My quest was nothing more than...than spring cleaning?”

“No, no, my Prince. You discovered your true self. We did aid you in that.”

The Prince very near struck them. He took a deep breath. “Tell me why I should not throw you out of this castle and take it for my own?”

“Because you will never succeed, Prince. We have magic beyond your imagining.”

“Prince, Cormun,” Cressida hissed in his ear, “let us leave. I do not like these fairies.”

“Listen to your friend, Prince,” said the fairies. “She is wiser than you think.”

“I will have my revenge,” the Prince swore.

“We shall see,” said the fairies.

The Prince and Princess rode and rode until they reached the forest. There, the Prince took out the chest.

“What is that?” Cressida asked.

“How I was able to help you escape. Now hush.” He held his hand over the top of the chest, and spake, “Chest, I wish for something to help me defeat the fairies.” There was a grinding noise from all around them, and a puff of acrid black smoke when the Prince opened the lid, but inside lay three ordinary-looking sacks, as though for storing rice or flour.

“What should thou do with these sacks?” Cressida said. “Thrust the fairies inside?”

“That may be the case,” said the Prince. He took the sacks out and shut the lid again. “Chest, I wish for the cloak of invisibility!” And once that had appeared, “Chest, I wish for something for to stun the fairies.” Once more there was the same grinding sound and more smoke. Inside was a quantity of sparkling sand or powder.

“The Sandman!” the Princess said, pleased.

“And I shall have my enchanted sword too, besides the cloak that renders me invisible,” the Prince said. “I shall leave you my chest, and all my belongings; if I do not return by morning, I wish for you to take them and survive on your own. I do not want you to try to rescue me.”

“But--”

“I will not hear your protests!”

“I was just going to say, why would I come to thy aid?” But her lips trembled, and he saw her wipe her eyes as he marched away, invisible, holding the sacks, a bag full of the powder, and his sword.

* * *

 

It was surprisingly easy to capture the fairies: the Prince simply cornered one in an empty hallway and doused her with powder, and then popped her into a sack with her head extending out from the mouth. They slept fitfully, and when they awoke their anger was terrible; but they could not escape the sacks.

“Release us!” they spat.

“Nay, I shall not,” the Prince said. “I want something more in return for clearing your castle.”

“Thou shalt receive nothing, save a clout between the eyes!”

“I had hoped you might help me, fairies; but you leave me no choice.” While they had been sleeping, the Prince had built up a great fire in the grand Hall of the castle, and it was to this fire that he dragged them now.

“Stop!” the fairies commanded in fear, but the Prince merely laughed. He threw them one by one into the fire. They screamed with rage, although not with pain, and disappeared; for, as everyone knows, when fairies are laid in fire they are returned to the land from whence they came.

The Prince ran quickly back to where he had left Cressida, and they slept the rest of the night in the Hall, beside the fire.

“Now, then,” the Princess said the next morning, “since we have a home now, and are far beyond any retribution from my father, or, surely, from thine: wilt thou not tell me thine true name? Is it true: art thou a prince, and not a soldier, as thou art formed?”

“It is true,” the Prince said heavily. “I am a prince. I am that same prince of whom I spoke, the prince who cleared these lands; and my name is Phillip.”

“Phillip,” Cressida agreed. “Dost thou wish to anger my father?”

“Of what do you speak?”

When the Princess’s father learned that his daughter, gone a week, had married a common soldier, his anger was indeed great; and he sent out his army at once to take back his daughter and smite this insolent soldier, and rode in the front ranks to fight himself.

The Prince and Princess stood on the battlements to greet them, in rich clothing and unafraid, and they invited the King inside. The King felt very foolish indeed when he learned that the Prince was actually that, and even more so when the Prince reproved him for blindly following the will of the fairies; for it was the same fairies who had prophesied the Princess’s marriage as had destroyed the Prince’s life.

But the Prince and Princess, now King and Queen of their own kingdom, rightfully usurped from the evil fairies, lived very happily indeed, even allowing for the earlier misadventures. The magical chest became a treasured family heirloom, and such a family it was!

King Phillip and Queen Cressida reigned justly for many years, and were beloved of their people; and when the Queen died the entire kingdom mourned for many years. The King was never the same after her death, although he lived for the length of three ordinary men, so long so that his great-grandchildren were obliged to murder him, if only to have the chance to inherit the throne.


End file.
